Carlene

I drag my bags into the bathroom with me to take care of the need only having two working toilets on a jumbo jet can create, and to try washing up a little.

Fortunately, my hair returns to looking slick and groomed with the run of a brush. A little deodorant and a spritz of perfume will hopefully remove the travel smell. I settle for a brush of mascara and a slick of lipstick. Then I remember Anton’s words, “I want you to greet me with a kiss,” and I brush my teeth a little longer than necessary.

Suddenly, my heart is pumping like mad. I use a tissue to blot the lipstick until it’s nothing more than a color stain on my lips. It would be so embarrassing to get lipstick all over him. Maybe he only meant a kiss on the cheek?

Why don’t I get that feeling?

I’m pondering all this like a crazy woman, when I feel my phone vibrate in the pocket of my jeans. As I pull it out and glance at the screen, I realize it’s from a number I don’t recognize.

Rome here from Perfect Gentlemen. There’s been a slight change of plans and Anton can’t pick you up. I’ll be meeting you instead. Sorry for the inconvenience. I’ll be standing by the exit of your terminal, waiting for you. I’m wearing a white T-shirt and dark jeans with mirrored aviator sunglasses. Please don’t worry. This is all legit and I can verify it. Looking forward to meeting you soon. R.

My heart leaps into my throat and threatens to choke me. This isn’t a great start. I’m on the other side of the world, and the first part of my plans have already gone haywire!

I take a deep breath to get my fluttering stomach under control. Falling apart is not an option, Carlene. You’re a smart, educated woman. You can sort this.

Pep talk done, I text back.

Ok C.

Then it dawns on me, I’m probably crazy. I don’t know Anton. This guy could be anyone. Is this some human trafficking ring? I read a book about that once…

A little adrenaline spike whips through me. What to do? I shoot off a text to Chelsea.

Just letting you know I’ve landed safely. About to meet the guy from Perfect Gentlemen. Apparently, Anton wasn’t able to make it. The guy they sent is waiting for me. Love Mum XXX

I don’t have to wait long. A few seconds later, I get a text back from Chelsea.

Don’t freak. I’m sure it’s fine Mum. They’re reputable. Take a photo of the two of you together and text it to me, that way I can give it to the police if something happens. Hahaha… Have fun and I love you too. Chels <3 <3

Police!

Oh God, I am nuts!

What the hell am I doing?

I was reluctant before. Now I’m wondering if I’m terrified or just plain stupid?

But standing here isn’t going to solve anything. Sooner or later, I have to leave this bathroom.

Okay, Carlene, you can do this. If he gives you the creeps, you can dump him right here and go to a hotel or catch the next plane home, I tell myself logically. Good talk, I can do this.

Let the adventure begin…

I push through the bathroom door and set off across the distance to the doors with signage claiming to lead me to the exit. Everyone else seems to be heading in that direction. Right now, I’m happy to be part of the herd. The doors swing open as I approach and let me through.

Suddenly, natural light flows in, and I can see cars at the curb outside. I’m almost there, and as my eyes track back, I spot this Rome.

There’s no way I can miss him. Not only does he look like one of those unattainable models from the pages of a high-end fashion magazine, he also seems to have a presence about him which stands out from everyone else. I glance from side to side and notice a few other women taking another look or two.

He’s so handsome. No, handsome isn’t right. Phil was ruggedly handsome. This guy is gorgeous. Easily over six foot and with dark brown hair cut stylishly tight to his head. The top is a little longer and styled to sit perfectly, and the glowing tan he sports looks like he spends hours in the sun. The mirrored sunglasses hide his eyes, but I’ll bet they are dark. His nose is straight and his lips sinfully full. There’s a hint of scruff on his cheeks. Just a little over five o’clock shadow. Although, I have no doubt his beard will be thick and dark if left to grow.

The name Rome suits him. He looks like there could easily be Italian blood in his heritage somewhere.

The crowd in front of me breaks to go their separate ways, and I approach him with my heart in my mouth. I can feel his eyes on me from behind those glasses. Are they as intense as they feel? Or is my imagination playing tricks on my mind? Blood is thumping in my ears, and my heart’s pounding so hard. Then he flips the glasses up onto the top of his head and time seems to standstill for a second.

I am right. Those eyes…oh, those eyes!

They’re the dark brown I expected and just as intense, maybe more so. His eyes speak of confidence, warmth, and intelligence.

“Hello, Carlene. Thanks so much for coming to visit me, beautiful,” he says smoothly as he steps forward.

“Hi, Rome,” I manage to squeak out as he puts his arms around me in an embrace that can only be described as familiar. He smells so good. I could happily drown in his scent. It’s something exotic, a scent I’ve never come across before. Although, I’m hardly a connoisseur of men’s colognes.

His body’s large, and he easily engulfs me. It’s so nice to be in the arms of a man again. He draws back with his shoulders a little, and I look up at him in question. Before I can form another logical thought, his head lowers, and his lips meet mine.

And I’m taken aback by the feel, so soft and warm—welcoming. I wobble a little in his arms, my legs unsteady at the impact of a simple kiss. It wasn’t a peck, but it wasn’t a long, drawn out kiss either. Something happened and immediately I feel different—alive, hopeful.

Hopeful, this trip will be everything I’ve dreamed. Hopeful, there is a new life for me. Hopeful, there is a man out there for me.

Then I remember he’s a stranger. A stranger I’m paying, nonetheless. I’ll do well to remember that. This isn’t a romantic fairy tale. This isn’t permanent. This is make-believe for a couple of weeks—a fantasy trip.

My body stiffens as I meet his eyes. They’re soft and knowing. He brushes his thumb across my bottom lip where his lips had been just seconds before.

“Don’t think about it. Just go with it. Feel, Carlene. This trip is all about new experiences and living in the moment. I’m going to do my best to show you the time of your life. All I ask is that you let me. I won’t let you down.”

Is he reading my mind?

He lowers his lips to mine again for another lingering kiss, before stepping back.

“Let’s get started.”

I nod in agreement, a little lost for words right now, but my fear meter isn’t screaming. In fact, it’s pleasantly silent. Anticipation is something else though.

“Let me take that for you.” He clips my overnight bag to my larger suitcase and takes it in his left hand, while he wraps his right around my waist.

It feels so natural to move in beside him. Is this a superpower or something he has?

Then remembering Chelsea’s request, I fish out my phone and halt. He looks at me in question.

And suddenly I’m a little embarrassed at what I’m about to ask him. It reeks of mistrust, and I hate that, but I need to be smart too.

“Um, do you mind if I take a picture of us. My daughter insisted, to know I’m okay. She might have also mentioned something about having a photo to pass to the police if she doesn’t hear from me.” I try to couch it as a bit of a joke.

He chuckles politely and takes the phone from me. “I don’t mind at all. I promise, you’re safe with me.”

Rome pulls me into his side and keeps his arm around my shoulders. He holds the camera out and angled down at our faces with the advantage of only someone with long limbs, can manage.

We both smile up at the phone, and he clicks off a couple of images and passes the phone back to me. Before he releases it though, he cups my face with his big hand and gently tilts my head so he can see my eyes.

“There you go. Shoot that off to her and tell her to expect lots more of them. All with you smiling and enjoying yourself”

If his words aren’t enough, then his eyes confirm it all.

I really believe everything he just said.

Am I crazy?

“Send the text, Carlene. Then let’s get out of here.”

“Okay.” My voice sounds breathy.

I do as he suggests, and he holds out his hand to me.

His hand is warm and strong around my smaller one. A zing of electricity zaps up my arm, and I hazard a glance upward. Does he feel it too?

All I get in return is a confident, knowing smile.

What does that mean?

Rome

I’d been nervous while I waited for her to arrive, but Carlene is way more nervous than me, so it seems.

It’s so stupid. I’ve done this more times than I can remember. A blur of female faces flashes through my mind. I’ve had so many women over the years, it’s to the point only the crazy or the remarkable stand out. Mostly the sort of remarkable I remember isn’t a good thing at all. Whatever kind of crazy it is, it’s enough to make the owner of that trait stick in my mind even when I’d prefer she doesn’t.

I’ve been out of the game for six months—off the frontline. Maybe time is it? Why can’t this be a couple of hours date or even an overnighter?

Two weeks.

Two whole weeks.

I haven’t been on a date this long in years, and on the other occasions, it was only after I’d been out with the woman previously.

Two weeks is a long time to be constantly on show, on guard. Always in the moment, and at someone else’s beck and call. If she’s the crazy type, it will be the two longest weeks of my life. Yeah, it was definitely dread I’d felt as well as nerves at the unknown when I stood there waiting for her. Having met her now, my anxiety level is retreating back into the normal level.

Her response to my text was a simple ok. No flirty emoticon or cute words? That isn’t typical. Or has the game changed while I’ve been on the sidelines?

Anton gave me the cliff notes on her looks beforehand. Shoulder length brown hair and nice green eyes. Skin on the lighter side of tan. Yep, none of this was particularly helpful as I waited for her. At least twenty people coming through the doors fit that description.

It seemed like I waited and waited for her to arrive. What had seemed like forever was realistically only about ten minutes. Ten minutes is a damned long time when you were standing there feeling and knowing you were about to step into the unknown. I can remember the days, when instead of feeling like this, I felt an anticipation and an excitement.

I truly do love women, and this is what makes me one of the best at this job—escort.

I silently smirk, or is it cringe, at the title.

Yep, that’s me to the core, or at least, one of my personas.

Rome, the West Coast’s most revered escort. My status is almost legendary in certain circles. I’ve been doing this gig for the best part of ten years. But an escort isn’t all I am, and that’s one of the reasons I’ve taken a step back.

To do this job well, you have to be a chameleon. You have to be truly into the moment. Women are intuitive creatures and many can spot a phony a mile away.

Particularly, the classy, quality ladies. This game is very different from what most people think. Surprisingly, there are a lot of lovely, lonely ladies who only want a good meal and some great conversation and to feel special for a few hours.

Providing that is hardly a chore. Then there are those who want sex and the extreme. They hired an escort because they want something kinky or hard core. I’ve seen it all, done it all, and can do it all, if needed or wanted. Not much surprises me anymore.

Maybe, just maybe, Carlene is the exception. I’ve known from the moment the crowd parted and I caught a glimpse of a lady fitting the bill. I watched her move forward, subtly scanning looking for someone. It wasn’t obvious, but I’m an expert at watching for body language and reading it. It’s my job.

As she moved closer, I got a better look at her. She’s slim and attractive. Not flashy, which the women I meet often are. Instead, there’s a refreshing understated, wholesomeness about her.

I knew, beyond doubt, the moment her eyes had locked on mine in recognition to the description I gave her. There was no glancing away or trying to play coy from her. Instead, she quietly summed me up as she moved toward me.

And Anton lied about her eyes. They aren’t just green. So much more—unique. A green like I’ve never seen before. The outside of her irises are ringed with a dark line blending into the palest green with tiny flecks of gold.

I’ve learned over the years, a woman’s eyes say everything, and I’ve become more and more intrigued, as I’ve learned this lesson. Carlene’s eyes fascinate me already. I know I could easily stare into them for hours and never get bored. And this is just one of the reasons I love mirrored glasses at times.

As soon as she was in reach, I went to work and got through the awkward first introductions.

The first few moments together in any date were key. More so, when I haven’t been with a woman before. In this situation, I had the time I recognized her, until the time she was within reach, to figure out my game plan.

It isn’t something I consciously worked out in my head. It was more the vibe she let off, which determined my natural responses.

I went with straight up and direct. Polite, friendly, familiar.

Yeah, she was a little skittish. Exactly why we always request a kiss first up. It breaks the ice. Gets the awkwardness out of the way. It also gives me the chance to sum up how she reacts, what she wants, and how I will play it from this point on out.

There was a brief hesitation, and if I didn’t know women the way I do, I probably would have pulled back. Which would have served nothing but to create more uncertainty between us.

Instead, I held my ground, let her feel uncomfortable against me for the brief moment it took, before she relaxed into me. It was a tiny surrender. An unexpected sigh and her acceptance of me within her personal space—my body against hers. All good signs of things to come.

I know she’s nervous. I also know just the very basics about her.

Aussie, widow. First trip overseas and looking for a companion to show her the sights.

Anton decided she is looking for the boyfriend experience, and after that kiss, I agree, even if she doesn’t know it yet. It won’t be a hardship fucking Carlene. I figure I’ll probably enjoy it, which is a relief. It’s tough work having to pleasure someone you really aren’t into for two weeks. Emotionally and physically draining. That’s why we got the big bucks. This job may seem glamorous to a lot of guys. The reality is often quite different.

And then some gigs are almost too good to be true. In fact, they feel like they’re real. This one just might be one of those.

She’s definitely nervous as we move away from the safety of the terminal, and I’m actually pleased she stopped me to take the selfie for her kid. It gives me the opportunity to put her more at ease. I can totally understand and empathize with her unease. This is a new country, a new experience, and I’m a stranger. Anton not being available has been a big inconvenience to me, but I can only imagine how disconcerting it must be for her.

When we approach the black Mustang she requested, I move her to the passenger’s door. I pull out my phone and bring up the video Anton sent me.

“Here’s a message for you from Anton. I’ll let you watch it while I put your luggage in the trunk.”

She looks a little surprised, and then a small smile crosses her pretty lips before she accepts the phone from me.

I take her bags and place them in the trunk beside my own suitcase. Then I move back beside her, or rather, I place myself behind her and slightly to the side, where she can feel me close to her. She glances up at me over her shoulder before turning her attention back to the screen.

“Anyway, I’m really sorry I’m not going to get to meet you, Carlene. Rome’s a great guy and will show you an awesome time. You have nothing to worry about. Just enjoy yourself. I hope I get to catch up with you next time you’re in town, or I wouldn’t be averse to coming and visiting you down under. Caio for now, babe.” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively on the “down under” part. For some reason, it pisses me off a bit—another guy cutting into my assignment.

I give myself a mental slap and take the phone back from her. Just a client, Rome. Is that a pretty pink blush in her cheeks? If all it takes is one slightly risqué comment, then I have a feeling Miss Carlene is going to be doing a lot of blushing during our time together.

I like that pink blush—a lot.

“Okay, Carlene darlin’, let’s get out of here. That is, of course, only if you’re convinced I’m not going to sell you into slavery,” I joke.

She inhales sharply but covers it with a nervous giggle, and I immediately regret the little bit I added as a joke.

Feeling a little embarrassed I think, she turns and moves closer to the car door. I only just have time to slide in front of her and open it before she reaches for it. First rule of being a gentleman—we always open doors for our ladies.

“Thanks,” she mumbles as she gets in. I haul ass around to the driver’s side and climb in while shooting a glance over at her, to see how she’s doing. I don’t want to give her any time without me to think, to worry further.

“Hey, the bit about selling you into slavery was a total joke. I’m here to make sure you have an amazing time, and you’re one hundred percent safe all the times.”

Carlene smiles and nods politely. “Are you sure you don’t read minds? Because, I was thinking exactly the same thing before I came through those doors to meet you.” Then she glances down at her lap, before looking back up at me and her eyes are full of honesty. “I really have no idea what I’m doing here, Rome. This whole experience is so far out of anything I’ve ever done before.”

Her declaration surprises me. Sure, many women open their time with an escort by admitting they’ve never been with one before. Carlene’s declaration is so much more. I sense she’s referring to her whole life experience more than anything to do with me.

I want and need to put her at ease.

“That’s fine, beautiful. It’ll be my pleasure to be your guide on this adventure.” She gives me a single nod and a hint of smile crosses her lips, and I can’t resist reaching forward and popping my index finger on them.

The shock registers across her face before her eyes warm and she wriggles back in her seat a little. Ah, so it seems she’s a bit of a novice with fun play, as well. I can fix that.

I start the engine and head out of the parking garage.

“So, I’m figuring you’re probably tired, hungry, and wanting a shower.”

“Do I stink that bad?” she asks a little in horror.

“No. Not at all.” I reassure her with a chuckle and pull out into the heavy LA afternoon traffic. “I’m just going on how I always feel after a long flight. Did you get any sleep on the plane?”

“No. The guy beside me gave me the creeps. He kept looking at me weirdly, and I really didn’t get to relax.”

“Sorry to hear that. Unfortunately, that’s the risk when you fly by yourself. You never know who’s going to be sitting next to you.”

“This I’ve discovered, the hard way. I’m just glad he kept his interest to looking and nothing more. I’m not sure what I’d have done if he’d tried something.”

I love that Aussie accent of hers. It’s amusing and unusual to my ears. Her voice tone is also quite low and a little husky, which just makes it down right sexy, although I’d bet she has no idea. “My best advice if something like that ever happens again, speak to the flight attendant and see if they can move you. If not, then at least they’re on alert to the person.”

She gives me another nod, this time a little sullenly, I notice as I glance across.

“Hey, what’s the matter, Oz? No frowning on this trip.” I reach over and give her thigh a friendly pat.

“Sorry. I just feel a little stupid, I didn’t think of doing that myself. I’m not exactly a seasoned traveller. And what’s with the Oz? Have you just nicknamed me? I thought only Aussies did that?”

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself. And do you have a nickname?”

“Not really. My dad used to call me possum which I like, and Phil, my husband, called me Carly.”

Well, Carly is definitely out if her deceased husband used the pet name. “So, what exactly is a possum where you come from? It kind of sounds a bit naughty, but the only ones I know here are kind of dirty, nasty creatures.”

“What?” she asks with a frown. “A possum is a cute and cuddly little marsupial mammal native to Australia, along with the kangaroo and the koala bear.”

“I’m not sure about the native thing. We have possums here too. But I wouldn’t say they were cute or cuddly.”

This brings another frown to her face. “I thought possums were native to Australia.” Next thing I know, she has her phone out, no doubt Googling.

“It says here there’s apparently a native species to Australia, and yes, you do have possums here, scientific name Didelphimorphia, more commonly referred to as opossums.”

“Well, there you go. Nothing you can’t find out on Google and the best way to solve all those Trivial Pursuit questions.”

“I do like to get to the bottom of questions. But it kind of stuns me how much I rely on Google and my phone, for that matter.” It seems like this is a new revelation for her.

“Likewise,” I agree.

“And I guess we were both right,” she offers diplomatically.

“I can live with that.” And let it go. How a person responds when being incorrect or challenged says a lot about them. Carlene handled this nonsensical issue with grace.

“Now back to the nicknames. If not possum, because it kind of feels contentious to me, what about kanga or roo?”

She bursts out with genuine laughter. “No, definitely not kanga or roo. I like Oz or possum best, if you’re going to go down this path. But Carlene or Carly works just fine, as well.”

“Nope, definitely won’t be Carly. That was something between you and your husband. I won’t go there.” I said it purposely. I know she’s a widow, but I want to know at what stage she’s at in the grieving process.

To my surprise, she just shrugs. “Suit yourself. It doesn’t really worry me. Call me whatever you want, just not late for dinner.”

Late for dinner? What is that about? Then it dawns on me. That old joke! I didn’t really expect her to make it. Carlene is kind of serious, but maybe that’s the nerves talking.

I finally let out a chuckle.

“Not so funny, hey?” Carlene throws up her hands as if to say, “I tried.”

“It’s not that. I guess I wasn’t expecting a joke. You strike me as the serious type. But jokes work just fine, and yeah, we use that one here, too! And I’ll be sure to make sure you’re on time for dinner!” I glance across at Oz and give her a playful wink.

That earns me a relieved smile.

“I have a feeling I’m going to pick up a lot more Aussieisms spending some time with you, though.”

“I guess it will go both ways. I’ll probably pick up just as many of yours, Rome.”

“You probably will,” I agree while watching the busy traffic. It’s slow going.

“So how far are we going now? Santa Monica, right?”

“Yep, that’s it. We should be there in a few minutes. You can take a shower, chill out, sleep, whatever you want. Or I could give you a massage. A massage always feels good after a long flight.”

“A massage!” Carlene sounds a little stunned. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Hey, I’d be happy to do it. It’ll make you feel good. Plus, I’ve got wicked skills, oh, and a certification, if it makes you feel better.” I take my hands from the wheel momentarily and mimic giving a massage.

“Okay, okay. I believe you. Just put your hands back on the wheel. This traffic is crazy, and you’re sitting on the wrong side of the car. That’s doing my head in.”

It’s just a typical LA day, but I guess it’s all relative.

I decide to push her a little further. “So, a massage it is.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Umm,” she’s sucking on her lip and little worry lines have formed across her brow. Kind of hot, actually. “I’ve only ever had two massages in my life, and they were both by a woman at the spa my daughter has been dragging me to of late.”

Two! Is she serious? Most definitely sacrilege for a beautiful woman like Carlene to not have been pampered way more. Has she been living under a rock?

“Then you need to expect a lot of massages, because there is no better way to feel relaxed and special. Well, maybe not the only way. But certainly, one of the best ways, and I know them all.” I tease her a little just like Anton had, and sure enough, there’s the blush.

“I’m not really like that.” Her voice is quiet, not much more than a whisper.

“Like what?” She has me curious; is she really as sexually naïve as she seems? She has kids!

“You know, sexy and flirty and stuff.” She turns her head to look out the other window, and I realize we are going to have to have the “talk.”

I hate doing it, because it drags us out of the here and now, but it needs to be said before we can move on. Besides, bringing Miss Carlene out of her sexual shell will be fun.

“Okay, I’m only going to say this once, so listen up.” Her head snaps around to look at me, and I’m pleased we’re stopped at one of the slowest traffic lights in California. “You’ve hired a full-service guy. This means I’m going to show you a good time in every possible way. Sex and sensual pleasures are something I excel at, and I’m looking forward to sharing with you. Surely, you knew this when you hired me? For the duration of this trip, think of me as your boyfriend with all the benefits, plus more. I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel good in every possible way.”

As I wait for her answer, I’m surprised to realize, I meant every word, and they’re true. I will enjoy having sex with Carlene. There’s something refreshing about her, something I’ve not seen in a long time, if ever. Almost an innocence, even though she’s a mature woman.

She’s wriggling in her seat again with a worried look in her eyes.

“You’re really okay with sleeping with me?”

How can she ask that?

“I’ll not only sleep with you, I’ll fuck you in ways you don’t know are possible, if that’s what you want.” I throw in a little coarse language to see how she reacts.

She blushes again, or rather, the pink in her cheeks heightens, and she fidgets once more. I don’t think it’s offense at the word, more the connotations of the act.

“That won’t be hard. I might have been married for twenty years, but I’ve discovered in the last eighteen months, my life was somewhat sheltered in that department.” There’s more than a hint of animosity in her words. This is definitely a woman disappointed in her past sex life.

“Lucky for you, you have me, then. I can certainly remedy this.”

“Hey speedy, I haven’t said I agree yet,” she counters immediately. Naïve, but with fire. I love this rare combination.

“True, but you will. I can be very persuasive.” And that’s when I realize my jeans are starting to get very tight. I haven’t been this aroused with a client in forever.